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From the Mid-Autumn Festival night when the poem "Shuidiao Getou" was leaked by Xiao Chan, Ning Yi had been staying at home reading and feigning illness for the past few days. When bored, he would play Go with Xiao Chan. Today was his first day out. He attended classes at the school in the morning, picked up the whitewashed wooden board he had asked someone to prepare, and then bought some charcoal sticks. He came over here, and it turned out that both Old Qin and Kang Xian were present. Search: \(¨End¨Book¨God¨Station¨) to read high-quality literature for free

As for poetry and lyrics, Ning Yi didn't have any psychological barriers to using them. He knew that these poems and lyrics were a very good strategic resource in the present era. If he wanted to do something in the future, he could use them to create hype and gain some fame. But taking them out at this time would only satisfy a little vanity, which was meaningless.

Nowadays, scholars and talents speak and act with allusions from classics. If you really want to gain some fame, you will inevitably be tested. These quick wits are useless even if you memorize all the poems of the Tang and Song dynasties. Now, if works such as the "Analects" and "Great Learning" were placed in front of him, he could explain them in vernacular, and even have some new ideas, but he certainly didn't have any talent in other areas. It was a bit early to throw out the lyrics, but since it had already happened, he would accept it indifferently, given his personality.

For him, this was not a big problem. There were myriad ways to solve it, whether by unconventional or conventional means. The day before yesterday, Grandpa Su and Su Boyong had called him and Su Tan'er over to inquire about it. He made up a few random sentences, saying that he didn't write the lyrics, who knew it would be a twist of fate… Grandpa Su looked at him for a long time, and then just smiled and said, "Now that things have come to this, we must keep it a secret to the outside world…" The old man was very shrewd. Whether he believed it or not was another matter. But if he really was a great talent, the Su family's position would actually be awkward. Everyone was actually guessing.

Being a talented person was not as comfortable as being a live-in son-in-law. He didn't have to do too much, he didn't have to take responsibility, and people didn't have too many expectations of him, so there was no pressure at all. The old man also took care of him. It would be foolish to want to get rid of this kind of life. He thought so in his heart, and he found it quite interesting, but if he told others, even Xiao Chan wouldn't believe him.

In a few days, there would definitely be rumors outside, and he could probably guess what they would be like. It was when Xiao Chan told him about the Still Water Poetry Gathering that he was startled by the name Kang Xian, and finally couldn't help but smile wryly. He knew that this old man was not simple before, but he didn't expect him to have such a great reputation.

After resting for the days that he should have rested, he temporarily put things behind him and returned to normal life. But when he was lecturing this morning, someone from Yushan Academy found him. The person who came was Yu Zixing, who had been reprimanded by Old Kang, and several other scholars. They actually came to apologize.

In a sense, Yu Zixing's reputation as a scholar had been damaged almost completely by Kang Xian's reprimand at the poetry gathering. This was truly an undeserved disaster. However, Kang Xian still cherished his talent, and sought him out to talk to him alone when he left, giving him earnest guidance. If he took the time to come and apologize again, it would also earn him some good reputation, after all, bearing thorns to apologize and correcting mistakes could also be considered a kind of good reputation.

Since they had a purpose, Ning Yi also cooperated a little, putting on a show of mutual appreciation. As for inviting him to a gathering of students at some barge in the evening, he casually declined, and then said goodbye to those scholars and took out the whitewashed board.

"Zixing is a good person in terms of morality. Although his talent is not top-notch, it is also excellent." Kang Xian said with a smile, "It's just that your "Shuidiao Getou" is really too good. Once this poem comes out, I'm afraid no one will be able to write a better Mid-Autumn Festival moon poem in the Qinhuai River for the next few years. It's really unexpected that you, this unlearned kid, actually have such poetic talent."

"I told you I don't understand poetry." Ning Yi took a sip of tea. "When I was young, a ragged wandering Taoist priest passed by my door and recited this poem, so I remembered it. That's it…"

He also said this to Grandpa Su. At this time, Old Qin laughed loudly: "Your statement, I'm afraid even a three-year-old child wouldn't believe it."

Kang Xian also said: "This person is just too lazy, he needs to be beaten… But the name of a talented person seems to be quite useful. The woman just now had an excellent appearance and temperament, and she actually walked with you all the way, and chatted happily. If you can achieve a marriage, haha, kid, you have to be grateful to this old man…"

Ning Yi's status as a live-in son-in-law made it not easy to pick up girls. Kang Xian was just teasing and joking. Ning Yi told them about saving people before the Mid-Autumn Festival, and they understood the whole story. At this time, one game had been completed. The three sat aside to rest. Old Qin picked up the teacup and nodded, but became interested in another matter: "Writing? So, you want to write with charcoal on this white board for use in the school?"

"Yes, the sand table can only write too few words at a time, and it is really troublesome to use. After all, it is not as convenient and intuitive as writing it down like this."

For teaching, classes were currently taught by writing on sand tables. Often, after writing a word, the sand table would have to be smoothed out. The teacher was only demonstrating the writing of the font to the students. Most of the knowledge was taught orally, requiring students to concentrate when the teacher was speaking. After the teacher finished speaking, they had to try to record the lecture notes with their own understanding. If they were not particularly smart or particularly self-conscious students, it would be quite difficult to keep up with the pace of teaching.

Of course, for Old Qin, Old Kang, and others, this teaching method had been continued for thousands of years, and naturally they didn't think there was anything wrong with it. Learning was something for the upper class. If you wanted to become the upper class, how could you not endure hardship? This was a test in itself. Old Qin picked up a charcoal stick and drew on the white board, and then frowned.

"The sand table is soft, and writing on it with a branch is the same as brush techniques, but charcoal is difficult to write with. This kind of change may be inappropriate."

Just now, Nie Yunzhu only paid attention to how the words were written, but Old Qin's perspective was different. With just two strokes, he raised an objection. As a teacher, not writing in class with brush techniques was a big deal. Later, Old Kang also came over to try it and frowned: "This matter needs to be handled with caution." If Ning Yi was his disciple, he might have scolded him and pointed out the seriousness of the matter with a head-on blow.

Ning Yi could naturally understand their concerns. At this time, he smiled, squatted down, and also took a charcoal stick: "The problem is not big. Writing is meant to cultivate sentiment, and besides, these fonts actually have some similarities with brush fonts. If it is only for recording, it is okay to be more relaxed, and it can be considered… another angle."

After he finished speaking, he reached out and wrote on it, "Red crisp hands, yellow vine wine, two yellow orioles sing in the willow tree." This sentence was in regular script, and then changed to official script, "Outside the long pavilion, beside the ancient road, a line of white egrets ascend to the blue sky."

After these two lines were written, the font changed to Song typeface: "Three mountains half fall outside the blue sky."

The Song typeface had not yet appeared. Old Qin and Old Kang looked at each other. It was just that to explain this kind of problem, it was better to have a more impactful method. Ning Yi used to like a method of hiding enough impact in plainness when he talked business and promoted products. The next line turned into a more beautiful and elegant slender gold typeface: "Two waters divide White Egret Island."

Next, it turned into cursive script: "In the northwest there is a beauty, who hangs herself from the southeast branch."

Then oblique black: "To exhaust a thousand miles of view, hang yourself from the southeast branch."

The white board was only so big. After writing like this, he put away the charcoal stick: "How is it?" Old Qin and Old Kang had already laughed and scolded.

"The words are pleasing to the eye, but the poetry is really messing around…"

"Insulting to culture, annoying…"

"Your nature is really too lazy, haha, what kind of things are these poems…"

They said these words, but their eyes never left the white wooden board, and they occasionally recited them, also commenting on them.

"In the northwest there is a beauty… really unlearned, clearly, 'In the north there is a beauty, peerless and independent', this song comes from the Book of Han, and then it continues to hang herself from the southeast branch, hehe, do you think the northwest rhymes with the southeast…"

"Old Kang is really wise."

"If you were my disciple, I would have someone take a stick and beat you. Even random graffiti affects the famous works of the sages. 'To exhaust a thousand miles of view', you're still hanging yourself from the southeast branch, aren't you afraid that Wang Zhihuan will turn into a vengeful ghost to settle accounts with you! Every sentence is hanging yourself from the southeast branch. This peacock flying southeast is also unlucky, that southeast branch, is it provoking you?"

"Haha, it's just that one day I suddenly felt that if I pieced together poems and lyrics like this, it might have a different flavor. Old Kang, don't you think so? In the northwest there is a beauty, who hangs herself from the southeast branch. Raise your head to look at the bright moon, hang yourself from the southeast branch. In the empty mountains, no one is seen, hang yourself from the southeast branch. Since ancient times, sages have all been lonely, only hanging yourself from the southeast branch. Since life has no escape from death since ancient times, it is better to hang yourself from the southeast branch…"

Old Kang shook his head: "Involving the sages, we must be rigorous." In the words, there was a bit of amusement, but also a bit of warning. Old Qin on the other side was looking at other things. At this time, he said: "When will the bright moon be…" Old Kang answered: "Mostly, you have to hang yourself from the southeast branch…" Saying that, he laughed.

After that, Old Qin took the charcoal stick and pointed to the previous sentences: "It's also pieced together, but I don't know where it came from. I think it must be Liheng's old work, haha, red crisp hands, yellow vine wine… the back is not well connected, these two yellow orioles sing in the willow tree, a line of white egrets should be one sentence… and 'Three mountains half fall outside the blue sky, two waters divide White Egret Island'… what a good artistic conception, it should be another poem…"

He circled these sentences with charcoal sticks, isolating "Red crisp hands, yellow vine wine" and "Outside the long pavilion, beside the ancient road", looked at them briefly, and then drew a line in the middle, probably thinking that these two sentences should not be the same poem either. Kang Xian also nodded: "It should be two poems." Then he looked at Ning Yi. Ning Yi was a little admired. If he looked at these twelve words in this situation, he might recognize that they were sentences from a poem, after all, they were quite neat, and lyrics were generally long enough to make such transitions. These twelve words were not easy to divide, but the two people in front of him separated them with just intuition.

"Then there should be four poems, but I don't know if there are complete poems, or just a few fragments?" Old Qin looked towards Ning Yi and asked.

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